Biting back against a little-known, fatal disease

How Frank 'n' Dawgs and the daughter of a pulmonary fibrosis victim are raising money and awareness

April 03, 2011|By Mary Schmich

Jennifer Bulandr wants to help cure a disease with the help of a Frank 'n' Dawgs dog.

You may have heard of Frank 'n' Dawgs. In the 13 months since it opened, reviewers and foodies have swooned over its gourmet buns and sausages. In September, Bon Appetit called it Chicago's best hot dog.

There's a good chance, however, that you haven't heard of pulmonary fibrosis.

It was Friday, lunchtime. He was sitting with Bulandr in his 43-seat restaurant on Clybourn Avenue while diners gobbled homemade sausage and dipped cornstarch eco-forks into a salad of shaved Brussels sprouts.

In a couple of hours Brunacci and Bulandr would do a taste test on the special hot dog that for the month of April will be dedicated to the disease that killed Bulandr's father.

"It will be made of Thuringer sausage," said Brunacci. "Topped with shallots jam, bacon lardons and shoestring potatoes."

Translation: not your average ballpark hot dog. It's one of the creations of Frank 'n' Dawgs chef Joe Doren, who used to cook at Blackbird and Sixteen, the restaurant in Chicago's Trump International Hotel and Tower, where Brunacci's brother Frank runs the kitchen.

A hot dog may seem an odd way to get attention for something as serious as a disease. But Bulandr will do whatever it takes to get people to notice pulmonary fibrosis, and nothing attracts publicity in Chicago like a good hot dog.

"Everything I wasn't able to do for my dad ..." She took a breath. "I'm going to cry. Everything I wasn't able to do for my dad is what I feel I'm doing when I can provide information for people now."

Bulandr hadn't heard of pulmonary fibrosis – "PF" for short — until her father, after years of misdiagnoses, was told he had it. Afflicted by a disease no one knew, he felt isolated. So did his family. He died nine weeks later, at 58.

Soon afterward, Bulandr discovered the Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation, a small Chicago nonprofit. She went to work there as a volunteer then graduated to a paid job.

A few months ago, a co-worker talked her into lunch at Frank 'n' Dawgs. When she noticed the monthly "charitable dawg" on the menu board, she saw an opportunity.

There are a lot of diseases that compete for publicity, research money and sympathy. Bulandr's cause snagged me because my mother died of pulmonary fibrosis. Until she did, I couldn't have told you what it was.

I came to understand that in addition to being one of the least known and least researched diseases, it's also uniquely cruel.

It scars the lungs. They shrivel and harden, making it difficult for air to pass. In PF's advanced stages, it makes simple movements like sitting down or standing up feel like sprinting or drowning.

The Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation will get $1 for every charitable dawg sold, but the money isn't Bulandr's main goal. Mostly, she wants to educate.

She is recruiting support for the dog from state Sen. John Cullerton and U.S. Sen. Mark Kirk, both of whom lost their fathers to the disease.

All diseases present a challenge to hope. PF, which has no known cause or cure, and few visible champions, presents a bigger challenge than many.

"I don't have a story of a woman who beat cancer and is going to walk her daughter down the aisle," Bulandr said.